Holding On
by East Coast Ryder
Summary: Chapter 5: "How was it that every time he traveled a light-year forward with her, he ended up parsecs behind? And why was it that despite everything the woman did, had done, was sure to keep doing, he couldn’t help but love her." KOTOR DSF Revan/Carth
1. That Lonesome Road

Author's notes: Wow. I honestly think this is a first. I have never seen a DSF/Carth fic before (let me know if there are), so I figured I'd try my hand. Also something new for me: Writing from the male POV, albeit in the 3rd person. Although somehow near the end I think it switched to just 3rd person omniscient... wierd. I purposely avoided describing Revan or giving her a name.

* * *

The bright line between good and evil was becoming blurred as of late. Carth Onasi sighed as he drank a swig of his caf on the bridge of the _Ebon Hawk_.

He used to be a man who believed in black and white. You were one of us, or one of them. Now... he wasn't quite as sure. And it was all because of her.

Why did that woman get to him like this?

He had been watching her. She was ruthless. She saw their mission as going from point "a" to point "z". It didn't matter how you got there, as long as you got there. Pure intentions: finding a way to get to the Star Forge and take Malak out, but evil methods. Or were they evil?

When the gizka had invaded the Ebon Hawk, she used the Force to convince a selkath to take them off her hands. Not necessarily a bad thing. But not very long after, she had pushed a man up against a wall to get him to confess to planting evidence.

During battle, her technique was flawless. Her Force training had allowed her to see attacks before they came and, when another was in a pinch, she would use her abilities to take some of the burden off of him. If there was an option, she preferred fighting over talking. She had a way with words on occasion, but she couldn't be considered a people person.

The only person that she really talked to often was... Well, him. He didn't know why she was fascinated with him, but it made him slightly uneasy. Why would she be so interested in him, specifically? And why did she want to know so much about him without so much as telling him where her home planet was. Without letting him in.

Ruthless as she was, he could tell that she was slipping. Taking the easy way out more often than the kind way. Resorting to brute force rather than diplomacy. He hated diplomacy as much as the next person, but it was, in his opinion, a necessary evil. Not something to be thrown at the wayside.

What scared him even more was that he trusted her.

He'd tried not to, at first. Detachment. That was his creed since Telos. Don't get attached; don't trust anyone. Trust leads to betrayal. Betrayal leads to loss. And he'd had enough of both for one lifetime.

So how, in the course of their so far three month journey had he grown so fond of her? Hell, he didn't even trust the twi'lek kid. Or the innocent-as-of-yet T3. Especially not the mandalorian.

Why her?

"You still staring at the console?" A silky voice came from behind.

Damn those Jedi and their sneakiness.

"No," he responded jokingly. "Finished that a while back. Now I'm staring at the stars." He finished his cup of caf and stood, turning to look at the subject of his musings.

"I just figured you could use some company," she said, "and some tea." She leaned against the doorway, two mugs of the steaming hot beverage in her hands. She lifted one as though offering it to him and the pilot graciously accepted it.

"You spoil me," he teased, taking a sip. He would never tell her that he hated tea.

"I try." She smiled.

He motioned for her to sit in the copilot's chair as he sat back down. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

As the Jedi sat, she gave a somber laugh. "I try not to." The two sat in silence for a few moments, quietly drinking their tea.

"Hey, I—"

"You know—"

The pair chuckled. "You go ahead," the woman said.

"It's nothing," the older man said dismissively.

She smirked. "Then it won't matter if you tell me, will it?"

"I suppose not." He sighed. "It's just, I... I'm worried about you." The slight smile slowly fell from her face. He noticed that she had taken a sudden interest in the tea leaves sticking to the bottom of her mug. When she didn't reply, he continued. "I know that you can take down three mercs at a shot and I know that you are one of the most capable people I have ever met but... it's hard to watch you do this to yourself."

"Do what to myself?" she asked blankly, almost sadly, not turning to face him.

"You don't sleep, beautiful. You hardly eat. You haven't been talking to anyone. You just sit in your bunk, staring at... well, something."

She stood and responded coolly, "I don't see how that is any of your business, Onasi."

"It's not... I know it's not. But that doesn't mean I don't want to help you." He moved toward her.

"I don't need help," she growled, her voice quiet and intense. She took a step toward the door.

The concerned pilot grabbed her arm. "Yes, you do."

"Onasi, let me go." Her eyes, yellow-green irises, narrowed.

"Listen to me," he said, a firm grip on her slender arm. "You... you have a lot on your shoulders. Too much. The Jedi Council shouldn't have made you do this. And you shouldn't assume that the burden is yours alone to bear. I want to... to help you carry it. If you would just let me in."

There was a pause.

"...I was ten when my mother was murdered," she said quietly, eyes down on the floor. "I... I didn't see it, but I knew what had happened. My father was shaken up, wouldn't speak to me or my brother for a week. But he got back up and carried our broken family through the crisis. Whatever the cost. Whoever he had to pay off to avoid being found, whoever he had to kill to keep us safe. And I swore that I would be strong, just like my father... He did it alone. And I have to carry our family through this alone. Alone, Carth. It's on me."

"It doesn't have to be," he said, turning her toward him. "Your father was clearly a great man. But our family can be more than just a bag you have to carry around. We can help you. I... I can help you."

He didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to hold her, even though her eyes bore into his emotionlessly. He settled for grabbing her hand. "Please."

For what seemed an eternity, she stood silently.

"I don't know if I can be helped, Carth," she finally whispered. Her grip tightened, and she held onto his hand as though it was the last thing holding her to this place.

He gave her hand a squeeze. "We can try."


	2. Copulation?

Carth could not express in coherent words his thoughts about her- _Revan_, his mind hissed.

It was a _lie_. Everything he knew about her- admittedly, very little- had been fabricated to keep up the charade, the ruse of the kriffing Jedi Council. The woman whom he had grown to trust, to respect, to admire, even, was the cause of every horror, every betrayal he had ever faced.

His wife... gods, what he would give to hold her once more. To wake up from this horrid nightmare of the past few years with her in his arms. But, no. That could never happen again because of _her_.

Revan. Murderer. Monster. Betrayer. Killer. Evil. Merciless. Ruthless...

Her words echoed in his ear: "I was going to do it. I was going to tell them everything."

She would have betrayed the Republic. History repeating.

But... _She said she would have done it to save you,_ a small voice said in his mind.

He responded to the voice aloud, unconvincingly "Would it have been worth it?"

_What did you say to her?_ The voice countered. _That you would have cracked were the roles reversed? That you could not have toughed through it were she the one being tortured?_

All of that is changed. It all changed when the truth finally came out.

_But it doesn't have to be that way. You told her you'd help her. Even if she is Revan, you have to keep your promise._

He sighed. Stood up. Made his way toward the bunk room.

Knock.

"Go away," the unusually low, gruff voice called out.

He hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether he should listen to her. "It's me," he finally said.

Silence. The door clicked open, no one standing behind it. He cautiously stepped into the room.

It looked as though a storm had blown through it. Datapads, medpacs, lightsaber crystals were strewn about. And on the bedroll sat a broken, shivering wreck of a woman, ready to explode at any moment with the slightest provocation. And her bloodshot, swollen, yellow-tinted eyes had all their anger, their sadness, their disbelief focused on him.

This would clearly be difficult.

"What do you want?" the former sith lord whispered, her voice shaking with anger.

He really did not know.

"Then why are you here?" she questioned his thought.

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"You don't care, do you? You don't care that I'm no longer a sith lord. You don't care that I have no memory of the things I've done. You _don't care_ that everything I have _ever_ known is a lie, made up, a hoax. Do you know how much it hurts to be told that I don't have a little brother named Heath, my mother's death never happened, that everything I have tried to do it these past few months has been the Jedi Council _using me_?" Electricity crackled from her fingers.

"I can't even possibly imagine what you're going through," he said gently. "But look at it from Mission's perspective. Or Zaalbar's. Or even mine. My last few years... Revan destroyed my homeworld. My wife. My son has apparently joined the sith. But... I tried to blame you. For everything that has happened. I really did. But I can't. You... you have a darkness in you. I know it and it scares me. But no matter what you've done or what you will do, you are _not_ that person anymore."

"What do you know?" The jedi snapped. "How can you presume to know me better than I even do?" She stood, a calculating, near-impossible to read expression on her face. "How can you make me feel this _guilty_?" Her face fell and she turned away. "Just go."

He hesitated for a moment. Perhaps he should leave. Why had he even come?

"When you want to talk," he offered, "let me know."

Carth turned and left the room.

What had he accomplished by that? More confusing, what had he tried to accomplish? He sighed and made his way to the cockpit.

And into another awkward conversation.

"Observation: You appear stressed, Republic meatbag. Query: Is this emotion linked to your wish to copulate with Master?" HK-47 asked.

"I do _not_ wish to 'copulate' with her," Carth growled and sat in the pilot seat.

"Objection: But your actions around Master suggest that you carry an attraction toward the human female."

"Doesn't mean that 'copulation' is involved."

"Irritated statement: Human relationships are consummated by copulation. Query: Why then, do you—"

"Drop it, droid."

Silence. The pilot checked their course to Korriban. Three days more. It was likely that the Sith knew Revan was alive and that she would eventually be coming. They would need to be cautious. Regardless, there was no way that he would be left behind. Not with his son down there...

"Opinionated statement: Whiny Republic meatbag, perhaps if you mated with the Master you two would be less gloomy. Statement: Although it likely would not provide as much joy as some slaughter."

Carth held back the urge to dismantle the droid then and there.


	3. My Brand of Death Sticks

A/N: Well, I avoided it for as long as I could. I had to put Revan's "name" in this chapter. Stupid Mission... ;p The name is Amala, if you don't catch it. You don't really need to; it probably won't be used again.

* * *

One day more until they would arrive at Korriban, and she still hadn't made an appearance. Mission had tried to talk to her, but Carth pulled her away.

"Why hasn't she come out?" The twi'lek asked. "We told her we didn't care."

"She just needs time," the pilot assured her, walking the teen away and into the common room. "How about a game of Pazaak?"

Mission instantly cheered up. "I'll get my deck," she grinned.

As the twi'lek girl ran off, T3 rolled into the room, beeping and blurting erratically.

The droid slid over to Carth. "What's going on T3?"

More beeps and whistles.

"What did you say?"

He got his answer. As he looked up, he saw Revan.

"Hey," she said quietly. "I think... I'm ready to talk."

The pitter-patter of combat boots rang down the hall. "Okay, Carth, I'm ready to kick your— Oh. Hey, Amala..." The twi'lek drifted off.

"I think... I'd like to be called 'Revan', if you don't mind," the woman suggested solemnly.

"Sure, no problem, Rev... Um... I'll let you two talk, then..." Mission ran off once more, almost dropping her cards.

Once he heard the door slam down the hall, he turned toward... well, Revan, he supposed. "Are you okay?" he asked, motioning for her to sit at the Pazaak table.

She shot him a look that was a cross between a sarcastic smirk and a desperate plea for help. "If you can call it that." Revan sat across from him, tapping her fingernails on the table. "How long until we get to Korriban?" she asked.

"Little less than 22 standard hours," he replied.

"Good."

Silence.

"So," he offered.

"So."

"So why are you going by Revan now?"

"I don't know... It just... I guess it seems more like... me?" She said sullenly. "I don't know if that'll ever be not weird. I suppose once the truth is out, then... You can't just keep living a lie, you know?"

"Yeah."

"What... what made you change your mind about me?"

Carth sighed. "I don't know. I guess... it's hard to just throw away everything. For almost a year after Saul... after he betrayed us... I still would see him as what he was before. Still a good man. And I... I just can't see you like that. A cold-blooded murderer. A killer."

"I am," she said quietly. She gave a hollow, dark laugh. "A killer. It's strange. When Canderous talks about the thrill of battle, the bloodlust... I understand _exactly_ what he means. And what scares me is that it doesn't scare me. I don't find it weird." She closed her eyes and leaned back. "You probably think I'm crazy. Or evil."

"Not evil," the pilot countered. "Just... ruthless."

"What's the difference?"

"Evil destroys because it wants to. Ruthless destroys because it has to." He reached across the table and took her hand in his. She flinched, but did not pull away. "You are not evil."

"I don't know. I don't know if I've changed for sure... I've done a lot of thinking," Revan said, sounding a bit more sure of herself. "I don't think that I can do this. Be a pawn of the Jedi, I mean. I think I just have to try to be myself."

"Sounds like a good plan." He absent-mindedly rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb.

"I'm not sure if... I don't think I know who I am anymore. I'm slipping, I... I'm not as controlled as I once was. It's strange... Looking back on this journey... all I've done... I hadn't ever thought that any of the things I've done... the people I've killed... the lives I've destroyed... I thought it was necessary. But knowing who I was, who I am... It makes it seem almost as though... All along, she has been following me, haunting my thoughts and actions. And what's worse... I don't have a problem with that.

"She... It's like an addiction to death sticks. You know it's bad, deep down. That it'll hurt you in the long run if you're not careful. But you just can't help but _feed_ off the energy it gives you. The _rush_ of knowing you're in control, that you have the _power_..." Another dark chuckle. "Why am I even saying this?" She tore her hand from his and stood, turning away and muttering, almost to herself, "Why are you the only one I can... the one who _hates_ me..."

"I don't hate you, Revan," he interjected, standing up. "I hate Darth Revan, Dark Lady of the Sith. Not Revan, the one who has done more for me than anyone else in the galaxy. The woman who rescued Bastila, who brought a guilty man to justice. Who powered her way through a clan of Sand People, reunited a sister with her brother. Exposed corruption on Manaan. Granted, you did get us kicked off the planet..."

She chuckled. He considered that a victory.

"Look, I... I know what I said before. But that was stress, it was... me trying to cope with reality... I know who you were and- and it doesn't matter. I won't lie and say I've agreed with everything you have ever done, or that you've made the right decisions the majority of the time. But I know that you can be more than just Revan. You have an opportunity to move beyond what you once were, without regrets. Not many people get that chance. But eventually, you're going to have to make a choice. And I hope that you'll make the right one. I want to give you a reason to."

She didn't respond at first. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder and he realized she was shaking. "I'm afraid, Carth. I don't want to hurt..." she paused, reconsidering her words. "I don't want to hurt any of you."

"I don't want _you_ to get hurt. I... I think that I..."

Should he say it? Would it be so bad? Would it be betraying the one he used to love... _still_ loved? Did he even have to say it, or could Revan read his thoughts, _feel_ what he wanted to say?

She turned to look at the pilot. "What do you think, Carth?" Revan whispered softly.

He took a chance, and the woman's hand. "I think that I could love you, Revan. If there's room for me, that is... If you want me to..."

Revan was silent for a moment, her expression impossible to read. Then, slowly, gently, she stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and graced his lips with a light kiss. "I think that I already love you," she said, resting her head against his chest.

He drew her into a closer embrace, and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey, Republic, who's flying the ship?" a voice called from the garage. Canderous.

"Currently? Autopilot," he replied, not moving. "And as of right now, I have no plans to change that."

Revan laughed against his chest.


	4. Mr Brightside

A/N: Two new features in this chapter: a flashback and Revan's pov near the end... plus there's Canderous involved. Fun, fun, fun. Also, I'm likely going to start a new fic featuring a different Revan. I don't think this Revan is quite dark enough to be considered DSF... But I'm working on it.

* * *

_Three months ago_

She shoved the Rodian against the wall, her forearm against his throat. "You're lying."

Gluupor mumbled something in Rodese and she slammed him again. In a growl, she slowly enunciated, "Was the medal there when you entered the room?"

Another string of Rodese.

Amala released him. "Thank you," she responded with a nod, before turning to face her companions. "Let's go."

She hadn't taken two steps before turning back around and throwing a final punch in the witness' face.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Korriban was not Carth's favorite planet in the Galaxy. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was swarming with sith.

Or perhaps that this planet was slowly poisoning Dustil's mind with sith teachings.

Or that just being on this planet, much less searching for the star map that was most likely located within the sith compound, would mean actively fighting to stop Revan from taking a second fall. Which he wasn't quite so sure he would be able to stop.

Although... She had been positively glowing when she had walked in to see him that morning. Much better then she had been in the past week. Maybe... maybe he had gotten to her. Perhaps there wasn't so much danger as he'd thought.

As he came in for a landing in Dreshdae, she appeared again, wrapping her arms around both the pilot's chair and his neck. "Hey, you."

"Hey, beautiful. We'll be landing soon, so I'd sit down or hold on tight. Preferably the first. I could be wrong, but it's probably not a good idea to choke the pilot while he's flying the ship."

She laughed and slid into the copilot's seat. Her eyes narrowed. "I have a bad feeling about this," she said.

"Join the club," he muttered, slowly easing the _Ebon Hawk_ onto the landing pad.

"This place... it's teeming with the dark side," she explained, as the ship made contact with the ground. She stood up once the shaking stopped and peered out the starboard window.

He unbuckled and walked to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Well, we'll just have to be careful, won't we?" He rested his head on hers.

She twisted her head to kiss his cheek. "I'll be careful," she breathed. A sigh. "Guess it's time for a 'staff meeting'. Figure out what we're going to do..." She pulled away, her hand lingering on his arm.

He covered her petite hand with his. "Hey." Carth looked in her eyes, suddenly serious. Her eyes questioned him. "I know... I know how difficult just being on this planet must be for you. How we're so close to finding the Star Forge. It's the beginning of the end here, and you need to be focused on keeping yourself away from the dark side. But if you can... you will help me find my son, won't you?"

"Of course," she said, confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It... It's nothing."

"No, it's not." She held his hands in hers. "Tell me."

"I said it's nothing," he pushed.

Her wide, yellowing eyes penetrated deeply into his. He could feel something, a pressure on his mind...

"Are you trying to read my thoughts, Revan?" he accused.

"You think that I would be jealous of Dustil." It was a statement. She moved backwards. "That I'd leave you if you recovered your past."

Carth moved toward the jedi. "No. No, it's not like that."

"Yes!" she took another step toward the exit of the cockpit. "How hypocritical do you think I am? 'Revan, the big, bad sith, must only think of her self! She gets mad when I don't accept her past but will instantly turn around and judge me for mine'!"

"Revan, listen to me..."

"No, you listen to me, Carth Onasi. I may have done some pretty selfish things in my time, but do not, for a moment, think that I would _ever_ put the mission or my wants above the needs of the person- of the people I love!"

"How can you—"

CRACK!

Pain. Her knuckles had driven deep into his cheek with her backhand slap.

"Oh, gods..." Her face flushed, paler than it usually was. "I have to go." Revan turned and bolted out of the room.

Clutching his wounded face, he called out, "Rev... Amala!" He chased after her.

The weeping girl had run right into Canderous, who shot the pilot a dark look as the jedi buried her face in his chest. Clearly somewhat uncomfortable, the Mandalorian carefully placed a hand on the small of her back and used it to guide her to the back of the ship. Jolee raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Running a hand through his hair, Carth turned and walked briskly back into the cockpit, not even bothering to tend to his now-swollen cheek.

-0-0-0-0-0-

She felt no remorse, only shock. He had deserved what he had gotten, but she was unaware of having any intentions of actually acting on her thoughts. Her emotions were controlling her (_Take that, Jedi Council_,) and she had no problems with it. Carth was being a _schutta_, and she was not likely to apologize.

Revan sat, knees pulled in to her chest, on the garage floor. Canderous had been appointed to the position of 'pillow' and she leaned on the seated Mandalorian's shoulder. He had a hand stroking her hair and another on her knee. She could feel that he wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation, although "mini-Canderous" seemed to have little issue with having her so close. She supposed it was part of the Mandalorian thing. The discomfort, not "mini-Canderous." Although it could be both.

"What happened?" the merc asked, comfortingly. "Republic get too frisky?"

"No," she replied, her voice shaking a little more than she had intended. "He's just... being himself, I suppose."

"And that sends you crying to me, of all people?"

"Would you rather I have gone crying to Jolee? Or Zaalbar?"

His thoughts were so loud she didn't even need to try to listen in. _Not a chance._ "No."

"Then quit complaining," she teased.

They sat in silence for a moment, Canderous pushing a lock of dark hair out of her eyes.

_Why did Republic, of all people, get the girl? We all know he's just a whiny bastard. She could have picked a real man._ He spoke quietly. "So what happens now?"

"He'd better apologize to me."

"Given. What about the mission? Doesn't he still need to find his son?"

"For all I care he can go deal with that himself. See how he does without me."

_That'd be funny_. "Selling tickets?"

"100 creds each."

He laughed. "I'd pay more." The humor fell from his face. _He doesn't deserve you, you know._ "Are you okay?" He wiped a tear from her eye and brushed her hair back.

"It just hurts that he doesn't trust me." She buried her face in the older man's chest. "Thank you," she whispered. Revan could not sit there crying forever. She had a final star map to find. "I know where the star map is. Come with me?"

"To the edge of the galaxy."


	5. The Confrontation

A/N: Yeesh, this one took me forever. I wrote the first 3/4 of it in a day (Granted that day was about a month ago); the last 1/4 took the last four days. Eek. In other news, _Holding On _has been nominated for Best Romance in the Before the Saga awards on TFN- I haven't yet qualified, but I'm still really honored that someone would think to send li'l old me in. We'll see how it goes. Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

_Taris, 8 months ago..._

"So," she began, taking a sip of her Whyvren's Reserve. "Mind if I ask you another question?"

"Well, if it's an interrogation you wanted, why didn't you say so?" Amala raised her eyebrow at his sarcasm. Carth sighed. "No. No, I don't have a problem with it, really. I'm all ears, beautiful."

The female soldier's eyebrow rose further, shockingly enough. "Keep calling me that and you might lose an ear or two."

"Oh, really?" he teased. "So what would you rather I call you?"

The woman didn't seem to be in a joking mood. "How about my name?"

"Fair enough. What are you going to call me in exchange?"

She smirked. "I'm thinking '_di'kut'_."

Figured the 'linguist' would know some Mando'a. Pity he didn't.

* * *

When Carth woke up in the middle of the night, the first thing he felt was pain. Because not only did he apparently deserve a night of restless nightmares, but also to be awakened by a punch in the face from a towering, very angry, mandalorian.

The pilot lurched out of his cot and got his fist halfway to the other man's face before his arm was caught in Ordo's hand and twisted behind his back.

"Listen, Republic," his attacker growled, low and quiet. "I know that you love that woman, jedi, sith, whatever she is. And, as much as I have zero problems having a gorgeous woman leaning on me, she loves _you_. Whatever the kriff you want to do about that is completely your business. So, I'm going to let you two work things out this time. But, if you send Revan crying to me for comfort ever again, I will be forced to beat your face in, is that clear?"

"I didn't mean to—"

The mandalorian bent further. "Is that clear?" When the pilot didn't respond, he released the younger man. "You know what your problem is, Republic?"

"What is my problem?" Carth snapped, holding back every urge to whip out his blaster and shoot the man.

"You _think_ too much. You're so afraid of betrayal that you can't just assume that people will do things for you, or help you at all. And that's what got you into this. So you had better fix it, damn it, or we'll have no leader and no one to take down Malak." The man's malice tamed itself, if only slightly. "We need her. And she needs you. I can't stand you two fighting. Makes me feel like I'm in a damn holodrama..." He stalked out, almost as quietly as he had entered, leaving Carth with a very confused look on his face.

It was only when he was sure the mandalorian had gone that he gasped in pain, his shoulder clearly injured.

* * *

"Carth?"

The woman peeked into the medbay, where Carth was sitting on the table, fighting with a roll of bandages. He winced, adjusting the cryo-cuff on his shoulder. "Come to beat me up? Seems to be on everyone's mind as of late. HK threatened me on my way over here, with, quote, 'high-tech meatbag instruments of slaughter'."

"I didn't ask him to do that," she said, holding back a smirk.

"Never said you did."

Their eyes met, both weary of fighting but unwilling to give in and apologize to the other.

Revan stepped toward him. "May I?"

He gave her a slight nod. She had always been better at healing wounds than he, even when he had been up-to-date on his med training.

She slipped the glorified ice-pack off his injured joint and pulled back his sleeve. "Ugh."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse than you'd think. What did this to you?"

Carth grimaced at her touch. "A certain mandalorian who was sticking up for a certain identity-challenged jedi."

She laughed quietly. "I figured as much," she replied. Her fingers danced across the wound and he could feel the throbbing pain diminish, then disappear. "You should be set for when we go into the city. Hopefully we'll find a safe way into the Academy." The jedi turned to leave.

"Hey, Rev, I... I'm sorry."

The woman stopped in her tracks but did not turn to meet his gaze. "We'll find Dustil, Carth," she almost whispered. "I promise you that much."

* * *

It took a grand total of ten sentences for the former Sith Lord to convince Yuthura Ban to allow her into the Academy. Carth had been expecting either less talking or more fighting. But either way, they were in; himself, Revan, and (much to his chagrin) Canderous. HK had been disallowed; something about recent outbreaks of droid rebellion.

The quarters they had been granted were small, with only curtains of some thin, luckily opaque cloth to cover the entrance. At the center of the room was a bed. Or what Carth assumed was a bed. It looked more like a marble slab with an understuffed pillow on top of it. Two hard, metal chairs adorned the sides and a beat up footlocker took its post at the side of the bed.

"Lady gets the bed," Revan proclaimed. Or, at least, it would likely have been a proclamation, were she not utterly exhausted. She near-collapsed onto it; Carth could see her wince on impact but he quickly turned away, peering out into the corridor.

"I'll take first watch," the mandalorian grunted. "Get some rest, Republic." He pushed past Carth out of the room.

Leaving him alone with Revan.

Kriffing mandalorian.

Carth sighed and sat down on one of the hard, metal chairs. He looked over to the woman, who appeared to have dropped right into sleep, and ran a hand through his hair. How was it that every time he traveled a light-year forward with her, he ended up parsecs behind? And why was it that despite _everything_ the woman did, had done, was sure to _keep_ doing, he couldn't help but love her.

Wait.

_Love..._

Why did that word, that idea, irk him? He had already told her that, hadn't he? No. He had said he _could_ love her. Future tense. As in, he didn't yet. But...

"Hey, Carth? Can you stop thinking so loud? I'd like to get some sleep at some point here," the woman in question said wearily.

"Sorry..."

She shifted and rolled to look at him, her golden eyes analyzing him coldly. "I don't understand you, flyboy. You're the easiest to read but the hardest to comprehend."

He met her gaze. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't understand you either. You're a morally gray woman, you were once the Dark Lord of the Sith. You ignore the crew. But you're kind to me. You've given me my life back. You're helping me through this, when you are the one who needs the help. Why? Why me?"

"I've told you," she whispered, sitting up, pulling her knees to her chest. "I love you. I'm not sure why, or how, or when it happened. But if there's one thing that is more important to me than killing Malak, it's you. It sounds stupid, I know." He slid off the chair and knelt at her side, carefully reaching over to place his hand on her arm. Before he had even finished moving, she grasped his hand in hers.

"Then let me help you. I offered once, before. You're walking down a path that I... I don't think you want to go down. You need someone to be there for you. And I feel like sometimes you're holding me at arm's length. I want to help save you. Like you helped me."

Her eyes flickered back toward him. Bit her lip. Then, for the first time in a long while, a small smile crept across her face, and she once more squeezed his hand tight, holding on to the man as though he were his one connection to the world. And leaned in close, pressing her lips gently against his.

"Rev..."

She pulled away. "I need sleep," she said, running her hand down his cheek. "We'll look for Dustil in the morning."

"Good night," he said simply, giving her another quick kiss.

Maybe... Maybe he did love her. Because what is love? A gut feeling, a mutual attraction? A willingness to risk everything you have for another person, with no guarantee of return?

Then, yes. Yes, he did love her.

* * *

Dustil Onasi couldn't sleep. Something on the edge of his mind was keeping him wary of his surroundings. He knew that several new recruits had arrived, but there was a presence that was... strangely familiar. And something was telling him that, whatever it was, it would catch up with him, and soon.

He had a bad feeling about this.


End file.
